


Gin Fizz

by siriusblue



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs in a Car, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Humor, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-02 21:11:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14553606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriusblue/pseuds/siriusblue
Summary: Greg never minds if Mycroft has one too many Martinis when they're forced to attend diplomatic functions. Not when they have such a delightful effect on his husband.





	Gin Fizz

GIN FIZZ

 

Written for Soft Smut Sunday on Tumblr, just after reading an excellent post by @starsinursa on how well-written sex is great but it would be much more realistic with awkward, messy and embarrassing scenes. This is the result. 

  
  


Mycroft should have stayed away from the martinis.

 

Greg kept a weather eye on his husband as Mycroft worked the room. Greg knew he hated the boring diplomatic functions that his position dictated he attend but unless you knew him as intimately as Greg, you would never guess. He looked incredibly dapper in black tie and Greg enjoyed just watching him. His almost feline grace was always a joy to see.

 

Greg smiled to himself as he watched Mycroft sip delicately from his martini glass.

 

Gin had a wonderful side effect on Mycroft. He politely called it an aphrodisiac;Greg thought it would have been more honest if he'd said it turned him into a raving cock slut. Not.that Greg was complaining, he'd been on the receiving end of some spectacular blow jobs courtesy of Bombay Sapphire and if gin was what it took to get his beloved through this, then he could look forward to some fringe benefits.

 

He sipped at his own orange juice as he liked to keep a clear head at these functions while he chatted pleasantly with other worthies whose name he couldn't remember five seconds after meeting them. God forbid he should get plastered and embarrass the British Government. And there was the added bonus of being able to drive his own car home.

 

At the end of the night they got into the car and Greg eased it slowly into the traffic.

 

“Have I told you how eminently fuckable you look tonight Mr Lestrade-Holmes?” purred Mycroft.

 

“Yeah, but it's not something I’ll ever get tired of hearing.” smiled Greg. Neither would hearing himself being called Mr Lestrade-Holmes.

 

“You were the most beautiful thing in that room tonight. Everyone wanted you, even if they wouldn't admit it. Just as well you're spoken for.”

 

At the traffic lights Greg looked at his husband. Mycroft wore a sultry smile and there was frank invitation in his eyes. Greg felt himself growing hard.

 

The lights changed and Greg yelped as he felt Mycroft's hand slide over his thigh to stroke him.

 

Concentrate, Greg told himself wildly, trying not to cause a multi-car pile-up in Central London as Mycroft’s long fingers caressed his balls through the thick material of his trousers, sliding his palm over Greg’s prominent bulge on the way to the fastening of his trousers.

 

“Mycroft…” he pleaded but the hand persisted so Greg indicated and pulled into a residential street, switching off the engine and unfastening his seatbelt. It was very late and all the houses, thankfully, were in darkness.

 

He saw that Mycroft wouldn't be denied so he settled back to enjoy it, Mycroft had already eased Greg out of his trousers and was smearing the tip of his shaft with a blob of pre-come.

 

“How far back does your seat go?” murmured Mycroft. “This is a terrible angle. I'll get cramp.”

 

Greg pushed the driver’s seat back as far as he could and Mycroft climbed into the footwell.

 

Greg moaned aloud at the touch of Mycroft's lips on the sensitive head. He watched, mesmerised, as Mycroft swallowed around him, taking him in to the root while the fingers of his free hand stroked the skin of Greg's balls, tracing tiny circles on the skin of his perineum, making him gasp.

 

Mycroft had never looked so wanton and Greg didn't hesitate to praise him as Mycroft continued to take him apart.

 

“You look fucking beautiful with my cock in your mouth,” moaned Greg. “You're so fucking incredible at this. Jesus!”

 

Mycroft’s finger had reached Greg's entrance and was massaging it gently.

 

Greg's hands were in Mycroft's hair now as he abandoned all pretence at control, his hips lifting from the seat as he fucked Mycroft's spit-shining mouth, feeling his orgasm build, spiralling outwards like a supernova and he could not hold back his ecstatic shout as he spilled deep into Mycroft's throat.

 

Mycroft let Greg's sated cock slide out of his mouth and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, a sight erotic enough to almost get Greg's motor running all over again.

 

“Switch places,” said Greg, his voice gravelly with want. “I need to taste you.”

 

As Mycroft shifted position there was the ear-splitting sound of a car horn in the street.

 

His car horn, Greg realised as he sat there, half horrified at the thought of being caught and disciplined for Conduct Unbecoming In A Public Office, half hysterical at the aghast look on Mycroft’s face as he realised it was his arse that had caused the cacophony.

 

Lights were coming on all along the street and a dog started barking as Greg drove away as fast as he could with Mycroft giggling uncontrollably in the passenger seat.

 

He didn't stop till they got home and the front door was securely locked behind them.

 

“Professional Standards would have had a field day if we'd been caught,” laughed Greg, pulling off his bow tie.

 

“So they would,” agreed Mycroft. “Not to mention Special Branch and the Security Services. Gregory, I think I will cease drinking gin at official functions from now on.”

 

Greg took his husband in his arms.

 

“Oh no you don't.” he growled, pushing Mycroft gently onto the sofa. “Now. Where were we?”

 

The End.


End file.
